


Mrs. Robinson

by Janina



Series: Mrs. Robinson [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Jon is 18, May/December Relationship, Sansa has a kid, Sansa is 38, Sansa is divorced, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 04:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: based on this prompt (I've taken liberties): I've seen plenty of kink with an older Jon, so how about an older Sansa mixed with a dash of real life inspiration. Jonsa prompt: Sansa is a new teacher at her younger brother Robb's high school. One day she goes with him to his friend and classmate Jon's swim meet and can't help but notice Jon's abs, his muscular arms or that ass you could bounce a quarter off of. The swimmers aren't the only ones getting drenched





	Mrs. Robinson

Sansa peered out her kitchen window to where her son, Benjen, was hanging out with his friends by the pool, including jailbait Jon Snow. Or, he might not be jailbait any longer since he made a point of telling her he'd just turned eighteen a few months ago. 

She sipped the water in her hand as she watched him emerge from the pool. His back was to her and the blue swim trunks he wore outlined his ass. She could bounce a quarter off that ass. Okay, well, not _her_ specifically, but someone could. And she could watch. 

Then, of course, there were his muscles. It was obvious he hit the gym on a regular basis. Sometimes, she swore he flexed just for her. But that might also be a product of her sex-deprived mind.

And of course he had to be gorgeous in the face too. Soulful gray eyes, full lips, and the beginnings of a beard which did, in a way, make him appear older than he was. His hair, black and curly, fell down to his shoulders unless he pulled it back into a man bun. Sansa liked it both loose and pulled back. 

The girls Ben had invited over were clearly enamored with him. They kept giggling and whispering to one another, and once in a while they would actually talk to him. Ben, her dear clueless son, seemed fine with it. Sansa was pretty certain his crush wasn’t in attendance today. 

Jon turned now, looking toward the house and Sansa, like a moron, ducked and inched away. She was supposed to be getting snacks for them all, not ogling her son's friend. 

She was arranging a plate of vegetables on the island when the screen door opened and Jon stepped inside. He grinned at her. "Hey, Ms. Stark."

"Hello, Jon. Need something?"

"No," he replied and ambled over to her at the island. He stood right beside her, as in his arm touched hers (it was damp), as if they were crowded in and the only spot he could claim was right next to her. 

She casually inched away only to have him inch closer yet again. 

Was she imaging these things, or did he just not have any concept of personal space? This time, she went to the fridge to grab the dip and when she stepped back, she bumped right into him. 

"Jon, what are you doing?" she said with a laugh, attempting to act nonchalant as she turned around. She pressed her back against the fridge to put some distance between them. How the hell did he manage to make her feel exactly like those teenage girls out there? She didn’t feel like a thirty-nine year old woman with a seventeen-year-old; she felt as old her son with a crush. 

When she looked at him, the naked desire etched on his face took her breath away, and she found she had to look away from him. If her panties hadn't been wet by watching him at the pool, they were soaked now. She couldn't remember the last time a man had looked at her like that. In fact, she wasn't sure anyone had looked at her like that, ever. 

"Are you going to join us, Ms. Stark?" he asked, taking the dip from her hand. He tilted his head to the side. "You know...since I'm eighteen now, I could call you Sansa. Would you let me call you Sansa?"

 _The way I was just ogling you, Ms. Robinson would be more fitting,_ she thought. 

"I think we should stick to Ms. Stark. Ben might not appreciate you calling his Mom by her first name."

"But you would be okay with it if I did?" he asked with a sly grin. "I could call you Sansa in private. When it's just the two of us."

And how often did he think they'd be alone for him to do that? she wondered. 

“I don’t know, Jon. Let’s just stick to Ms. Stark.”

He looked a little put out by that, but shuffled away to put the dip in the center of the plate with all the veggies. “I’m going to Winterfell University in the fall,” he said. 

“Oh? What are you going to study?” she asked and went to the fridge to grab some bottles of water. 

“Political science.”

“Want to be a politician?”

“I’m not sure honestly. My mother wants me to study it.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what to say to that. It wasn’t her place to tell Jon what he should or not do or what he should or should no study. 

“What do you think, Sansa?”

She put an armful of waters down on a tray and looked at him with brows raised. “I think we landed on you calling me Ms. Stark.”

“Did we?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. He put the plate of veggies on the tray. “Want me to take this out?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

“Are you going to join us?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m sure Ben doesn’t want his Mom hanging out with him and his friends.”

Jon appeared to mull that over. “What if I want you to?”

Okay, she really had to put a stop to this. “Jon,” she began. “I think—”

“I’d love to see you in a bathing suit,” he said, his voice low and almost hoarse. “Do you have a bikini, Ms. Stark?”

Had he really just said that? And then asked her that? She blinked, stunned. He put his elbows on the island that separated them and leaned forward. “Did you know that I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Ms. Stark?”

“Jon, you can’t say those things to me,” she said sternly. Meanwhile, her heart raced. 

“Why not? It’s the truth. You’re not dating anyone, right?”

“ _Jon_.”

He straightened, and his gaze bore into her. “Sansa, I’m attracted to you. Surely you’ve figured that out by now. When I come over I spend more time talking to you than I do with Benjen.”

“Are you using my son?” she demanded. 

“No!” he looked insulted by the suggestion. “No, Sansa, I was friends with him long before I met you, remember? Benjen is my best friend.”

“Exactly. He’s your best friend. And I’m his mother. I’m twice your age, Jon. This is inappropriate, and it stops now. Can you please take the tray out now?”

He had the look of a kicked puppy. He nodded without saying a word and Sansa stormed off, needing to get away from him, from Ben’s friends, from the whole thing. She was shaking, literally shaking, and she felt as though her adrenaline had spiked. If it wouldn’t seem odd, she might even go for another run. 

For the rest of Jon’s visit, Sansa made sure she stayed far away. 

xxxxxxxxxxx

The last person Sansa expected to see on her doorstep a few days later was Jon. Standing there in a pair of black skinny jeans and a white Henley, he still bore the look of a kicked puppy, and when she told him with a frown that Benjen wasn’t home, he said he knew. 

“I came to talk to you actually,” he said. “Can I come in?”

She shook her head. “Jon, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I thought I made myself clear when I told you that this was inappropriate.”

“Please, Sansa—”

“Ms. Stark.”

“Right. Sorry. Ms. Stark. Please can I just come in and apologize?”

She sighed. “Fine.” She stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. She folded her arms across her chest, feeling a bit like a frump in her pedal pushers and shapeless sleeveless top. The teenage girls that had been over the other day would have worn something a little more flattering, perhaps more revealing. 

_Why do you care about that, Sansa?_ she scolded herself. _You’re not dressed to entice jailbait Jon Snow. You’re doing housework for crying out loud._

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jon admitted on a rush of air. “I think about you before I go to bed, you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up – I can’t get you out of my head, Sansa.”

She blinked. “This doesn’t sound like an apology.”

“It’s not,” he said, looking at least sorry about that. “I’m not sorry for how I feel. I can’t _control_ how I feel.”

“Jon, stop,” she said with a shake of her head. “This isn’t appropriate.”

“I know it’s not, but I don’t care!” he exclaimed. He looked at her a little wildly, a little untamed. “Did you know some girl asked me out a month ago? I turned her down. I turned her down because of you. Because it wouldn’t be fair to her that I couldn’t get you out of my head and stop feeling all these things for you. Benjen thought I was crazy for turning that girl down, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “You know this can’t happen.”

“Who said it can’t? Who said we had to tell anyone? School’s almost over, I’m going to Winterfell University, Benjen’s going to White Harbor, why can’t it happen?” He moved towards her and Sansa shook her head and backed away. 

“Jon, no, you know it can’t – is this some kind of game? Some kind of toy with the divorced single Mum game?”

He furrowed his brow. “No, Sansa, this is about you and me and nothing else. I’ve seen the way you look at me, I know you watch me when I’m here. And you know how I know you do? Because I watch you right back. Because I can’t believe that anyone would leave you for someone else. Your ex-husband is an _asshole_ and he’s _blind_.”

He came toward her again and this time, she didn’t get very far before he was gathering her to him. “Sansa, please, sweet Sansa, let me kiss you. Let me hold you. Just once, just once and if you don’t like it I’ll go.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like it or not, Jon, even if I do this still can’t happen!”

“Let me kiss you, please? Just let me…” He leaned forward and Sansa didn’t stop him. 

She told herself it was to put a stop to this. One kiss and that was it. She could send him on his way, but she was fooling herself. She wanted this kiss. She wanted to know if it would be any good, if _he_ was any good. 

She wanted to know if the attraction was real. 

It was. 

God help her, it was. 

He kissed like a dream. Like a man. A man that had plenty of practice. And considering how hot he was, she assumed he had plenty of practice. 

He kissed her as though this was the last time he’d ever kiss again and meant to enjoy it. He kissed her hungrily, madly, desperately, and when his tongue touched her, she moaned. 

He took her hands and drew them up to his shoulders and then wound his arms around her and deepened the kiss. He didn’t stop, not even to breathe. He just kept kissing her and kissing her. 

And then her knees hit the back of the couch. 

“Let me make love to you,” he gasped. “Please, Sansa. Let me touch you.”

“Jon, this can’t happen,” she whispered, but she knew it was half-hearted. She wanted this. She wanted _him._

“I’ll make it good for you,” he said. “I promise. I’ll make you feel so good… let me touch you, sweet Sansa, please.”

She nodded and with a look of utter relief, he pushed her down onto the couch. He knelt before her and immediately went for the snap on her pedal pushers. He was frantic, out of control, and her energy matched his so that she was too. 

Her pants gone, her panties gone, Jon spread her legs and buried his face in her cunt. 

She let out an “Oh!” at the feel of his tongue on her folds and her hands went to his hair, holding him to her cunt. 

He licked, he nibbled, he sucked – he made her cum in no time flat. It had been far too long. While she lay back, tremors still wracking her body from that mind-numbing orgasm, Jon undressed in record time. Then he was pawing at her top, yanking it apart so the buttons flew off. He growled as he undid her bra and sucked on one breast and then the other. 

“Jon,” she moaned, threading her fingers through his soft curls. 

“You taste so sweet,” he moaned back. “You feel so good, Sansa, so so good…”

Then he was pulling her down onto the floor before the couch and crawling over her body, straddling her. His pupils blown wide he looked down at her, smoothing some hair from her forehead. “Tell me I can do this. Tell me you want me.”

She couldn’t say the words; wouldn’t say the words, but she nodded. 

He placed himself at her hole and pushed in while she held onto his sides. The look of ecstasy on his face as he pushed his way far inside her nearly undid her. Had anyone looked as lovely as that while fucking her? He looked as though she’d granted him the universe with a bow on it. 

A few strokes in and out and he was there, seated within her. He held himself there and kissed her again and again, framing her face in his big hands. “I love you,” he gasped. “I love you, Sansa.”

She wanted to say no, he didn’t. He was too young. He didn’t know what love was, but instead she basked in his words. She took them inside herself and allowed herself to believe them. 

He fucked her the only way a teenager of eighteen could – hard and fast, with barely any finesse. 

Sansa didn’t need finesse though. She just needed to be fucked. And he was doing just that. Not trusting him to get her off this time, she slipped a hand down to her clit and began to rub it. 

His eyes went wide as he watched her, and he pounded harder and faster inside her. “God, Sansa,” he said, sounding as though he was choking. “God, I can’t – FUCK!”

He held himself inside her as he came and Sansa came at the feel of his cum shooting inside her. She cried out, digging her fingers into his sides and she caught his wince, but was too far gone to care. 

He collapsed against her, spent, and nuzzled at her neck. “Sansa…”

Boneless, all Sansa could reply with was a hummed, “Mmmm….”

In her ear, he whispered, “You’re mine now.”


End file.
